Stapled Freedom

The sounds of the strokes of a keyboard create a cacophony of deferred dreams amongst my colleagues. I hear the shouts that have become an inaudible blur to my mind. It is 9 a.m. and I am questioning my life’s purpose; like we all do. However, I see my superior skipping his way towards me as if he is swinging a bat and ready to strike at me like usual.

With a low growl in his voice he mumbles “I received your e-mail about requesting for a personal day”. I stare at his intensity and wonder what is the unnecessary repertoire he will bestow me with now. I manage to smile at him and await his answer. His words follow to “I understand that you have been here for a few years, and it is unlike you to take a day off or go on vacation; so what do you need a personal day for?” and I confidently reply “I have some personal things to take care of” I was under the impression that a personal day was just that; it’s personal. My answer seems insufficient to him and he will poke some more. Our conversation lingers of manipulative guilt one liners and casual threats to my job that I unfortunately need; the very tragedy of not being able to tend to my well being is not a concern. He walks away feeling accomplished that my imaginary head is bashed into the wall behind me.

The clock plays mind games with as I wait for the day to end. My work is a mindless requirement so it leaves me much time to think of ideas and concepts much bigger than I; even if it was what I was going to eat or how I was going to try to eat for dinner. My work environment produces the kind of unhappiness weed that naturally breeds more when the wind blows. The delicacy of false friendship with clandestine intentions to ruin the other is a time waster but it doesn’t stop people from playing the game; it has gotten to the point that I’ve become fascinated with the watching the games.

Finally it’s lunch time. I perform my mule duties and fetch lunch for the higher ups; just so I can eat alone. The soft texture of chocolate pudding is a childhood comfort that has become my only reliable source of dreams. I wonder what were the dreams of the debauchers before they landed in the cubicles of dead dreams. What are the dreams that motivates them? What are they truly good at? What skills could they utilize to bring in money and share positive vibes? My co-worker bumps me with her hips to say hello. She’s always been cheerful when she’s in a good mood; but if she’s in a bad mood I’d move out of her way. She tends to get what she wants from this place and I applaud her for it; I just have no interest in engaging her any further. I’ve been watching this people for a few years and engaging anyone more than I am required to, only provokes unprovoked trouble I’m not looking for.

The clock rings to me like a school bell. It is time to go. Everyone embellishes in their salutations with hugs and kisses; and subtle feminine fighting games being thrown out for only women to recognize and see. I casually wave at my colleagues but not expecting anyone to notice or want to say good bye to me. Finally out of the door and on my way to relive my life as it should be; I guess.

The alarm wails at me like a banshee. Every day my alarm clock sounds louder to me the day after. My hearing skills have taken on aspects of my thoughts in ways I can not convey into words easily. I sit on the edge of my bed and glance at my wall of aspiration. Who was I before I landed here? I do not need to go on a mental journey of wonder, asking myself “how did I get here?” I know exactly how I got here, it rather my question of “How can I escape”. Show a prisoner the window to the world and all they can see are the bars on their windows right?

The same redundant water cooler chatter rambles in the background like bad actors pretending to be in the background. I overhear about sexual escapades I wish I didn’t but now I know; and knowing

is not half of this battle. It is purely unwanted information of meaningless gloating. I wonder how to people this is the highest point of their life. I thought people dreamed big like myself. I thought people wanted to achieve things in their life and share the same positive morals I have; and that is my optimistic perspective even if my childhood taught me otherwise. The roar of laughter from the offices sound like those television shows with a sign telling them when to laugh or say “Awe” on cue. Do they go to classes for these staged conversations? I’m starting to truly dive deeper into the Catcher in the Rye and learn about those phony people he disliked. I do not dislike the people. I simply do not understand them.

The loudness of my office phone alerts me to leave my daydreaming for later and I see the extension is my superior. This means it is lunch time and he is expecting his food promptly. He can be a kind man when he wants to but when he is ruthless; he is vicious especially when unprovoked and unforeseen by me. We engage on banter of suggestions of food; where my opinion is irrelevant to the order. I assume he asks me to be polite; at least it is a kind gesture so it is much appreciated. I do appreciate that my lunch is being bought by him but when I first met him he never had an interest in the glittering generalities of life; but he does now or he is lost. I haven’t figured out which one it is. We used to be good friends and he was someone I could talk to and share dreams I had; at least when I had them. Speaking of which, he’s staring at me because I dazed out again. Inquisitively he asks “Where does your mind go?” I could not truly answer the question honestly because even I am unsure or I do not think he can fathom the journey. He places his order and some other colleagues orders in my hand on a post-it note and I make my way outside to the abyss of numbness.

As I stand on line with the other customers I watch the cashiers. I see how they smile with their mouth but not with their eyes. I wonder what their stories are and what accomplishments they are seeking to achieve; no matter how low or high their wishes may be. I wonder which ones will achieve it effortlessly; or if they are like myself and held back by being locked into positions they can not escape. Are they in a socializing prison like myself. I notice the cashier waving at me furiously to get my attention and I come to the realization of angry customers who are time limited and would like me to hurry up. I really must stop leaving reality. One of these days I am afraid that I will become lost in my head forever.

I drop off his lunch and find him laughing and basking to be the center of attention of the people he never wanted to become. Psychological transitions are fascinating when you watch it happen from the ground up. He says “Thank you” I smile and politely bow slightly to show respect but I really just want to where I hide to eat so I can disappear in my thoughts again.

My work school bell rings and it is time to go home. As I rode on the subway outside of the city I try to bask in the relaxation of the atmosphere of lost passengers like myself. The subway is crowded but I see so many unhappy faces. I see exhaustion etched into their souls. I see people like myself. As the train sways back and forth and causes passengers to lose their balance; I spot one profound pair of eyes fixated on me. I try to discreetly observe the women around me for I assume they are looking at the other women and not myself. Their eyes do not move. It is almost like they are trying read my aura and soul and I can not move to avoid obligated human contact. As my stop arrives, I peer over one last time to see the woman with long flowing blonde hair smile at me. Perhaps she was simply being polite, but staring is rude where I come from.

My broken down couch greets me with dust from lack of company. The kitchen light is on but I am truly unsure if it is worth pursuing. I stumble to my fridge and I am always stocked on wine, beer, tea and old

take out food I’m afraid to open. My exhaustion takes from my ability to eat anymore. I close the fridge and stare at the photos that decorate it. I think my fridge tells a story of a full life; a life I’m so unfamiliar with. It almost looks like a story that I have never heard of. My life is too foreign to me. I run my bath and skip dinner again. Perhaps my bubbles will ease a spilling mind.

My alarm rings louder again. I wonder if I am losing my hearing. It could be that warning of potential old wives tales told me that hearing a ringing at that frequency means that I have lost hearing at that level; and never hear again. If I lose my hearing I guess I won’t have to listen to the mindless rants of the world. I want to rant but I am not the loquacious type. I do not know how to or what the point of rambling on is. I spend more time thinking and shit, I’m running late. I keep doing this. I leave my home later and later. I’m awake and yet it is almost as if I’m not awake at all. I hope I don’t miss the train.

I board just on time to the train but I feel partially disappointed that I did. I should feel accomplished and excited that I will be able to arrive at my final destination on time. Yet, I can’t help but to see it is not any form of accomplishment at all. It is like being on time for your own death sentence.

The keyboard strokes have a song of their own they play and often play to the tune of a melancholic zombie meditation. I listen to my co-workers and the lives they pretend to live; and again I see my superiors walking that skip that means more work is to arrive my way. I look up cheerfully in hopes that my smile will deter him from any ideas they may have. “Hey!” I slip out. He looks at me with a glow and charm in his eye that he uses on all the women here, but it never works on me “Hi, Marie. I was reviewing a bit of your file and I feel like you’re the woman for this job! You’re the only person here I can trust with this.” He chuckles so sweetly but finished up “ It will require more time on your behalf and the company can’t afford to pay you anymore than we already do”. There’s the kicker. He winks at me and walks away feeling confident. He makes more money than I do so I wonder what kind of male empowerment is he getting high off of and how long has he had this addiction. I sink into my seat and I can’t help but to remember the strange blonde woman on the train. Perhaps I’ll meet her again.

The buzz of lunchtime flies through the office like a fire and the time moves so stagnantly to the mind; I’ve realized my colleagues are all saying their goodbyes. How long have I been out of it? How could I not notice time passing by right before my very eyes? I start to gather my jacket and purse. I’m beginning to wonder how am I able to come to this place of money worship every day without ever truly being aware of my surroundings. Am I a mindless worker or is the work mindless? I personally enjoy all methods of improving thoughts, brain power, capacity and much more; but I do not feel that mental growth working here. I feel at times as though my mind is relinquishing each day slowly. I should try to take up something new to keep my mind busy in a healthy way. If the mind goes, then so does everything else; but it does sound like a nice vacation.

The station platform carries the stench of sweat and frustration; that only the miserable can smell so clearly. I can not help but to look for the long honey golden haired woman but she is no where in sight; not that an overcrowded station provides much of a view. I manage to squeeze myself through a group of people and snatch the only available seat; that can fit a petite woman easily. I see the glare of my larger competitive passengers but I don’t care. I’m exhausted. The ad above the man across from me reads “DREAM BIG! OUR COLLEGE WILL GET YOU THERE!” Dreams? There goes that word again; dreams. What does it truly mean to dream? Is it my lustful psychological break down or is it what makes my heart skip a beat. Are dreams like seeds in the soil just waiting for passion to fill the pot? Dreams, a puerile notation. The ad should say “DREAMS DEFERRED? SETTLE HERE!”. I wish companies took a more

realistic approach to their consumers. I’m not stupid. I can see reality and the reality we all wish we could bathe in. Dreams seem to be adolescent concepts when they do not know what reality and truth truly are. But, what about the “lucky” ones? The people who make their dreams come true and tell the rest of us that dreaming can be a reality. Do they truly achieve what they want in life or are they lying to the rest of us to provide a false sense of hope? Wait...what stop am I at? Shit I missed my stop.

I stand up to find the subway map on the wall of the train car and there she is again; staring at me only. I look around to double check if she’s truly staring at me; and she is. The train is less crowded. It is much easier to truly see what she looks like. Her long honey blonde hair flowing. It looks like the sun glowing in a dim lit train. She smiles again and I return the favor. Maybe she thinks I am lesbian, I’m not but it’s ok if she is. I just want to know where does she come from and why is she smiling at only me? She’s petite like myself but I do have to admit I love her clothes. She’s wearing a petticoat style dress with black mary jane shoes. She almost looks like a doll. It feels like we’ve been awkwardly staring at each other forever but I can’t take my eyes away from her.

She walks up to me calmly and points to the door. The train is pulling into another station and I should get off and go back. Before the doors open to the platform I could have sworn I heard her whisper “I’m Menshen” What a strange name but I really have to get home. When I turned to wave goodbye I didn’t see her anymore. She probably went to find a seat but at least I have a name.

The keys in my front door ring and as I make my way to my kitchen I stare at the bowl of dried rice I left out from last night. This keeps happening. I never seem to have enough time to properly eat. I am almost forgetting what that is like. I glance at my watch and it’s 10:30 p.m. I have to hurry to bed. I have to be at work at 8a.m. and be awake at 5:30. There is no rest for the wicked they say; but I wonder what sins have I committed.

I lay my head down to sleep but my pillow seems to dislike me tonight. This is going to take a while.

I hear scratching at my door and wonder if I have a pet. Do I? My bedroom feels cold but it could be because my body is no longer wrapped like a burrito in my blanket. As I stare around my room I realize the shapes of my furniture look different in the dark but it could be my eyes. I grab my watch to check the time 3:00 a.m. I hear what I could almost be positive was movement but perhaps it was just the strange dream I had. I’m just realizing that my heart is racing. What on earth was I dreaming about? I roll over in bed in hopes that I can fall asleep for 2 more hours but I know this won’t be a guarantee.

The pangs of my alarm clock screaming greet a weary sunken eye me. There’s sunlight jabbing my eyes. I don’t remember leaving my curtains open but it is possible. I don’t remember much of anything. Do I truly want to go to work? I do not have much a choice. I do not have much of a desire. I do not have much of anything left; now that I think about it. Although, I must admit the idea of running into Menshen gives me a glimmer of curiosity; and I must find out more. She seems more fascinating than anything I’m doing with my mundane life.

I board the train and I do not see her. I am not sure why I am looking for her, because I only see her at night. I’ve never had a run in with her in the daytime; but who knows. The ride seems long and a seat is finally available; I race to sit down. I’m not even sure who I was racing. I glance outside the window of the platform and there she is. Long flowing blonde hair and her beautiful petticoat. She turns around as if she knew I was there and Menshen waves at me. I pass her my morning teeth smile. I hope that

seemed friendly. I want to be as friendly looking as possible. What am I doing? Why does this matter? Has it been that long of me working non-stop? Has it been that long since I’ve had any human contact? I’d take even inhuman contact. At least now I know her stop “TaiZong Way”, she’s only 3 stops away from my job in my favorite part of town. When was the last time I was there? I can’t remember. The train jerks hard and I realize I’m at my stop. I hope off the train and head to my obligated non-career opportunities.

An endless tunnel of paperwork swallows me whole. The office cacophony rumbles on like an overplayed song. Menshen sounds like a pretty name. My name is boring. Everything about me is boring. Even my suicides are boring and are as unsuccessful as I. The life of Menshen probably has excitement and less keyboards droning out the sound basic thoughts. BANG! My soul jumps out of my body for a second only to find my colleague standing behind my monitors staring at me. Which co- worker is this? Oh that’s right, Rosa. “What cha doing?” as perky as she can sound. She always seems tuned into the world and I often wonder what that is like. I look at my computer screen to see I’ve been typing away without a care in the world. My work is obviously being completed and I’m not sure what it says that I do not have to be mentally present to complete it. “Nothing much Rosa, what’s up?” I smile at her. Rosa comes around my desk to sit on it. She must be in the mood for gossiping. I’m not sure if I truly comprehend this human need or desire. Gossiping to me seems like a meaningless tact and only causes more drama amongst supposed friends and exacerbates situations with enemies. It truly has no use. I like to speak when I have something to say. Rosa leans in close “Did you hear?” I try to look amused and interested but I’m confident that I am surely failing at it. Rosa looks around as if she is skillful at whispering and says to me “The new girl Jessie and William are hooking up, but William has a girlfriend. But Jessie doesn’t know. That relationship is bound to be FIRE!!”. She walks away as if she’s bestowed the greatest amount of knowledge anyone could dream to have. That level of confidence of sharing personal information that is not hers truly amazes me. I wonder what that is like?

Numbers, letters, numbers, tapping on calculators, hitting on computer keyboards and it becomes a symphony of bland dreams. An automatic inner bell rings in my head and I understand that it is now time to go home. I wonder if Menshen will be there at the same time. The fabric of my jacket feels dirty. I wonder how long it’s been like this? I head to the subway and try to make myself look presentable; and I’m not even sure why. The station pulls up and there she is with the same petticoat and long blonde hair. She waves and walks closer to me. I smile but I do not know what are the required social conversations. “Try something new” she says to me. I am at a lost for words and I do not quite understand what she wants. I ask “What do you mean by, try something new?” She smirks at me and walks off the train and without guessing I follow. She continues to walk through the crowd and as I continue to follow her; her hair glows of radiance in the sea of darkness to me.

She leads me to the exit but doesn’t stop to wait for me. I can only follow. She stops outside of a café with a lit sign hanging. I order for seating for two. The drinks are silent over kettles of tea but she finally speaks “What do you want in life?” I open my mouth to answer but I fall short of a real answer. It was such a deep question for someone I just met. I really didn’t know how to answer her without exposing my natural dark nature. “To be honest Menshen I do not know what I want. Sometimes I am confident in what I desire but life seems to disagree with me.” Menshen smiles “I believe that it is how all of you feel” “Yeah but, what about the people who achieve their dreams?” She pauses at my question and follows up with “Perhaps other things plague their mind that you do not know about. You do not seem like the type to base your life on the goals achieved by others in their lives” “I’m not. I’m just feel a

never ending exhaustion. It is nothing like a physical exhaustion, but rather an exhaustion of the soul to the point that I can not help but to wonder if God has abandoned me? If my ideas to be a good person are childish and empty? If helping other people is even worth it? Is any of it worth living at all?” Menshen sits back in her chair. The waitress stares at me “Would you like anything else?” I shake my head no as I look to Menshen but she concurs we’re full for the night. I ask the waitress “Are you closing any time soon?” “No, you have an hour to finish this last pot of tea. I haven’t seen someone enjoy this much tea in a long time, so enjoy” The waitress smiles and walks away with my cash in her hand.

We begin to head towards the subway but I see her turn down a block. I’m enjoying this silent walk. We pass the subway and end up at the edge of the city where nothing is value to see but the beauty of the ocean. As I stare out into the sea I see the city across the way and realize what really sets me apart from my inner freedom is just the ability to dive in. The thoughts of swimming seem highly vivid to me in my mind that I start to truly see it. I feel a smile come across my face. I cannot remember the last time I actually smiled. I turn to share my smile with Menshen and she’s not there. I must have zoned out again and ignored her. Happiness is fleeting when all you do is make mistakes. Perhaps I will see her tomorrow.

My alarm rings like a siren. Sometimes I think I do not I truly do sleep. I feel spiritually drained pass the comfortable level of exhaustion a person could conjure up. I always wonder if I’m awake in my dream land or asleep in the land of the wake. My alarm has been ringing for a bit. I have to do that to make sure I stay on schedule with what I need to “accomplish” for the day. The loud ringer helps me pull from the nightmares I have at times. Oh well, time to tend to the waking nightmare. As I dress I still can’t help but to wonder about Menshen. I hope I didn’t offend her so much that she’ll never speak to me again.

Another mindless travel subway ride to a mindless job. I try to find ways to stay mentally engaged with my environment, maintaining interest, learning new hobbies, testing myself to keep the mind awake; but it gets harder each day. My job doesn’t require any real thinking yet it requires my presence; even when my presence holds no value in this place. “GIRL WAKE UP! It’s only Wednesday!!” I hear my colleague Rosa yell at me. It seems I have been staring at my desk for a bit now. I smile at my colleague and sit down. She stares at me with the usual look of bewilderment and curiosity of me. I guess it’s lunch time already but as usual another day.

At the inner school bell I am standing up at the end of the day. It is time to run into Menshen again. She’s very tantalizing. Instead of rambling on about my boring life perhaps I should focus more on her. I keep picturing how her life truly is. Zooming pass my colleagues to arrive to the subway. The subway car pulls in and I can’t help but to wonder how does she always know what train car I’m in? The doors open and there she is standing on the other side of the subway car. I never see her walk into the car, only exit. I wave to get her attention; although it seems I have always had her attention. She walks through the crowd and stands in front of me to smile. “How was your day?” I muster and she smiles at me. There’s a reassurance in her smile yet the mystery in it almost scares me. “I do not like to talk about work” she answers. Now I feel awkward but I still want to know what she does for work. She must smell my curious nature and leans in close to my ear to tell me “My work requires me to save people from themselves; If I can. If I can’t, then as your people say Que Sera Sera” Her work is as mysterious as her; perhaps someday she will tell me. I’m not sure how to carry the conversation from here. I’m terrible at socializing even though I’m a pretty social anti-social person.

Without skipping a beat she walks off the train and I follow her golden hair into the sea of people on the platform trying to board the train. I vaguely see that we are at another train station. We seem to have passed my subway stop. She looks over her shoulder to see if I’m still following and I am. I can’t help but to notice her walking style; it is as if she is not even touching the floor. I wish I had that much grace when I walked. A subway train pulls in and whips her golden locks in a whirl; it’s mesmerizing. We head out of the station and we head to an apartment building. She stares at me “Would you like to come and see?” I’m on this adventure with a new friend, I might as well see what is there to see. The doors to the building don’t see to have any locks on them or maybe I didn’t see her put the keys into the door. We walk up a few flights of stairs and I find we are standing in front of apartment 11. She opens the door and her apartment looks beautiful. It is not quite what I expected but it is what I subconsciously expected.

There are elegant oil paintings hanging from the walls. It almost appears to me that the paintings look like the different stages of life. Menshen watches me soak up the painting’s emotion. The last painting is the one that calls to my heart the most. It’s a smooth blur of blackness with an angel upside down. The angel is reaching down to a person. It looks as if the angel is trying to fly upside down to pull a person out of the hands of the people below. There is a woman whose in the middle of the painting reaching up to the angel but there are hands coming from a blur of demons and people pulling them down. Menshen stops besides me and asks “Does that speak to your soul?”. A shiver runs down my spine. I could have sworn I felt vibrations of her voice go through me; but she was right. This painting was me. It took me a second to realize I was unintentionally holding my breathe and I look at her smiling at me. She continues the conversation “Are these the nightmares that plague you?” I didn’t know how to answer her but I felt like I was choking on my thoughts and words. I’ve spent so much time dreaming that I didn’t realize I lived in my own nightmare.

I shake my head to indicate that she may have reached my soul. Her apartment carries a luminescent glow for a second but as I turn to face her the glow subsides. I stare into her eyes but her eyes appear a color I’ve never seen before; or perhaps I haven’t been paying attention. Menshen extends her hands out to me. Her touch sends a cold shiver down my spine and then I feel my body go numb. Menshen’s voice vibrates through my body “Do you want to be relieved of your nightmares?” Hypnotized by the symphony of her voice I agree to her question. A blast of silent silver light explodes around me. All I can see are Menshen’s eyes that hold a variegation of hues of blue to emerald green and gold. My body begins to feel light and I realize we are heading towards the midnight sky. As I finally remember to exhale I realize I have no breathe to release.